His antagonist laughed outright, with a keen appreciation of the fact
that his comparison had given the bishop the very opportunity he
desired. It seemed that circumstances rather than conviction had
forced him into his present championship of the useful. Miss
Wycliffe's appeal had brought out the confession of a special interest,
which had stamped him unduly. In addition, the section of the country
from which he came was against him. The bishop was not without his
prejudices, and was disposed to father all the materialistic spirit of
the age upon his guest, whether or no. He had noted that lapse into
slang, and his attitude had become like that of the loiterers in the
hall of Caiaphas, the high priest. Had his thought become vocal, it
would have run like a garbled version of their triumphant charge
against St. Peter: "Thou art a Westerner, and thy speech bewrayeth
thee."

His daughter had been a mere observer of the little tilt she had
unwittingly precipitated, and now, as she saw the younger champion go
down so gaily, she was moved by his spirit to sympathetic participation.

"It seems to me, father," she interposed, "that you and Mr. Leigh are
like the two knights who came to blows over the colour of a shield that
was white on one side and black on the other."

"You are quite right, my dear," he replied gracefully, "and as I see
that dinner is served, I will take this opportunity to dismount from my
hobby for a little refreshment."

"You must let me take this book with me when I go," Cardington begged,
rising from its perusal with evident reluctance.